Brothers

My dad took this picture of my brothers (David and Eric) and me around 40 years ago. I didn't take any of the pictures in this post; I'm in all of the pictures though. Why the move to being a curator this week?

This past week has been Passover, one of my favorite Jewish holidays. We get together with friends and family, we eat foods that we don't usually eat ("Why is this night different ..."), and we celebrate freedom. On Tuesday night, we went to a friend's house for a nice seder. We had also begun preparing the Friday night seder at our house -- we were focusing on the logistics of the table to borrow, the food to make, and where the overnight guests would sleep.

Then on Thursday, I read my friend Rabbi Hesch Sommer's e-mail about the weekly Torah portion:

A friend of mind recently asked me how I felt about Passover. After I shared with her my sense of anticipation, she shared with me something I did not know about her, even though we have been friends for a number of years: that she has be estranged from her only sibling in recent years and the approach of each holiday is tinged with the sadness and disappointment that the reconciliation is still only a wistful hope. She is aware of the goodness in life that she is missing.

For all the efforts that my friend has tried to draw closer to her sibling, there is a barrier which is not able to be broken. To find grace in life is to acknowledge our imperfections, thereby finding compassion for the imperfections in others. When we hold on to hurts and use them as a barrier blocking a sense of closeness with those we profess to love and care about, we rob ourselves of the potential for tranquility in our lives. How much energy do we waste being angry? How much time do we spend in sustaining the self-righteousness that we feel is ours to harbor when another has slighted us in some manner?

Our parsha reminds us that the life of inner peace comes through an awareness, an observation, that grace, mercy and compassion only exist in our relationship with others if we actively work to make them a reality. If our seder tables were reenactments of our personal struggle from enslavement to freedom, then we need to be aware of what we still need to cast off, what shackles we need to release ourselves from in order to live lives imbued with a sense of grace. Being plagued by grudges diminishes even further the sweetness of life within each of our wine cups.

Reading Hesch's words, my anticipation of our Friday night seder was transformed. Preparation for the gathering became infused with a deep sense of appreciation of my family's connections. I was reminded of this picture, taken by my cousin Lynn Padwe 30 years ago at a Thanksgiving gathering at my grandparents' house.

This past Friday, for our seder, our children were home; a niece and nephew joined us; and both of my brothers came from out of town. There were various boyfriends and girlfriends. A few of our friends -- some of our "chosen family" -- were there as well. I did not let go of the gift I had been given: the opportunity to rejoice in having a family that remains bonded and loving, that seizes the opportunity to gather, celebrate, eat, share our commonality, share our love. I asked Sarah to take this picture of my brothers and me, to mark the moment.

Why Spring Matters

At the moment it is pouring rain. But we have already had several very nice days in April. Around Connecticut there are some lawns carpeted in squill (scilla) and crocuses, and the early daffodils are blooming as well.

One of the things I like about spring is its constancy - all the beautiful flowers we love that come back again and again. Last year at this time I posted a picture of my grandmother's favorite primrose; here are this year's blooms.

Of course, not everything stays the same. The primrose is below a rock wall, and a tree growing through the wall has pushed a big stone out so that it is hanging over the primroses. Better fix that before it drops!

The delicately-scented white forsythia (an import from Korea) is blooming

and when we walked in the woods, Sarah spotted both the white and the blue round-lobed hepatica (so named because like a human liver -- hepar in Greek -- the leaves have three lobes).

Spring is also the only season that has a strong sense of forward momentum. This past winter kept almost ending ("Is it over?" "I think so..." "No, here comes one more snowfall ..."). But in spring we see the buds form and swell, and we know the flower will follow.

This azalea bud is waiting, for the next sunny day. Perhaps Thursday?